


The Five Stages of Falling In Love

by AnotherDayInHistory



Series: The Five Stages of Falling in Love [1]
Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherDayInHistory/pseuds/AnotherDayInHistory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's when she realizes she loves him like she's never loved anyone else. It's when he realizes she might be his forever.</p><p>Otherwise known as: the one in which Gwen and Blake live by the Lemony Snicket quote " If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting the rest of our lives."</p><p>AKA: Five snapshots in the relationship of Gwen and Blake.</p><p>Neé: How Gwen gets over Gavin and Blake gets over Miranda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stage One

**_“ If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting the rest of our lives.” -Lemony Snicket_ **

 

 

It’s when she realizes he likes to touch. It’s when she realizes that she doesn’t mind.

 

It had been a quiet evening at Gwen’s apartment, the two of them unwilling to venture out into a more traditional first date setting because of the cameras. Gwen had ordered Italian take out from her favorite restaurant and they had eaten it at her dining room table, conversation stilted at first while they figured out what being on a date actually meant for them _._ For too long, the only sound in the cavernous space had been the sound of forks clinking on plates and sips being taken out of wine glasses.

 

The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife until it happened. Blake had stood up for one reason or another (Gwen couldn’t remember in hindsight) and  his knees had knocked hard against the glass tabletop, sending both wine glasses tumbling on their side with red liquid pooling all over the transparent surface. For a second, a look of pure horror had struck his features, and then Gwen had started laughing, her hand covering her mouth. It wasn’t long before he wasn’t far behind, the rouge in his his face covered by his palms and his eyes crinkling. 

 

“ I was tryin’ so hard not to be sasquatch tonight,” he drawled softly, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. She laughed harder in response, slouching back in her chair into a more natural posture. In response, he had grinned, grabbed his linen napkin (the question of why the hell she had used white linen would come up two days later in her mind when she couldn't sleep), and cleaned up the mess on the table, taking the soiled napkin to the kitchen and setting it in the sink. 

 

That had been all it had taken. They wiped tears from their eyes, looked at each other, and suddenly realized that this was them, and dating was whatever they made of it _._ As Blake went to sit back down, still smiling, he brushed his fingertips along the back of her neck almost unconsciously. Also unconsciously, she tensed, not expecting his brush of fingertips. 

 

Immediately, he had frozen up, his eyes wide and posture slouching further. “ Oh god, sorry,” he muttered, accent so thick the phrase was almost unintelligible. She stared at him, her brow slightly furrowed. 

 

“ Why? You just surprised me is all,” She said, puzzled. He slouched further.

 

“ I…” he cleared his throat, “ I just shouldt’a touched you without asking first.” She grew more puzzled as he turned his face down to his food, fork picking at the pasta she had ordered for him. Her eyes roved up and down his figure, taking in his slumped shoulders, his other hand clenched into a fist on his lap, his eyes refusing to meet hers. Something was going on, she knew, she just didn’t know what. 

 

Gwen Stefani was nothing if not decisive. She pushed back her chair, walked over to his, and ran her fingers through his tamed curls. His fork clanked on the china plate, and he looked up at her as her hand moved to the back of his neck. She smiled softly down at him, at the uncertainty in his eyes tinged with something she wasn’t sure of yet. 

 

“ I don’t mind.” She said softly but firmly, nails scratching gently along the edge of his hairline. His eyes had briefly shut almost as if he wasn’t thinking about it, but then the smile that had come over his face had almost taken her breath away with its brilliance. It was this smile, the one he was giving her now, that had convinced her to say yes when he’d shyly asked the week before if she’d maybe like to go to dinner sometime soon.

 

They had finished their pasta and taken their wine (at least what Blake hadn’t spilled, Gwen had joked) out to the balcony facing the quiet stretch of beach. They stood side by side, closer than normal friends but still maintaining too much distance to touch unless either one had purposefully initiated it. Gwen had looked at him illuminated by moonlight, at his ever so slightly wrinkled clothing despite the fact that he’d obviously taken care with his appearance, at the bare hint of stubble on his cheeks, at his eyes which looked simultaneously content, devastated, and nervous. He had brushed his fingers against her palm once, twice, before tensing them and curling them back into his own palm. He had looked away towards the other end of the beach.

 

She took his wine glass out of his band, ignoring his surprised glance, and drained the fourth of the glass that was left in it. She did the same to hers, setting both on the table. He had huffed out an uncertain laugh, raising an eyebrow down at her. She walked over to her lounge chair that was next to him, standing on it and meeting his eyes at his level. Gently, she cupped his face in both hands and pulled his mouth towards hers for a soft kiss. 

 

She heard his sharp intake of breath before he began kissing her back, keeping it soft and gentle. The night was quiet but for the sounds of their gentle touches for a few seconds before she pulled away with a soft noise, biting her bottom lip and looking at him. He gave her a look that she could only describe as wonder and pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder for a minute before lifting her off of her chair and setting her back on the ground. 

 

The night had ended with another brush of fingertips and soft kiss to her cheek. She had leaned against the door, smiling to herself, before starting to get ready for bed. It hadn't been until 12:30, when she was climbing underneath her covers with her hair up in a messy bun, that her phone had buzzed. Grabbing it, she opened the messages to find a message from Blake. 

 

_i started to send this at least twice, and I keep being a pussy about it. not that acting like a girl is a bad thing, miranda just didn't like to touch and i guess i got used to it and ohmygod shut the fuck up blake._ She laughed out loud when she read it at first, and then stared off for a second while she considered the middle part of the text message. It buzzed again.

 

_I may have had another glass of red when I got home. anyways what i meant to say was thank you. it was gonna be a lot more smooth than that._ Drumming her nails on the bed, she typed slowly, considering her words.

 

**Do I need to be here for this conversation** **you’re having with yourself right now? ;) As for the other thing . . . so long as you give me that smile again we can superglue ourselves together.** She sent it, inhaling nervously. She typed again.

 

**Tell Adam you’re mine to touch.** It was probably thirty seconds before her phone buzzed again.

 

_Goodnight beautiful._


	2. Stage Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos! I really appreciate it! Blake is turning out very uncertain and sensitive in this story, I hope it's not too out of character!

It’s when he discovers she could kiss for hours, and he is perfectly okay with that. 

 

That night at her house had ranked among the most simultaneously embarrassing and wonderful nights of his life. He never expected her to clue in to his love of touch so quickly, but she had and every second he had spent in her arms had been wonderful. He still remembers every time Miranda shrugged him off. He remembers every time he had tried to spoon up against her and she had shoved him away, exclaiming how crowded she was making him. They had held hands on the red carpet more out of necessity than anything else. As soon as they were out of the public eye she had always pulled away. After a few years, Blake had learned to stop asking.

 

Days after dinner at Gwen’s house, he could still feel the smell of her perfume as he held her in his arms, could still feel the comforting weight of her hand in his, the scratching feel of her fingers over his scalp. 

 

Their second date takes place a week later, at his rented L.A. town home. They grill steak and drink beer (which he discovers she loves much to his pleasure) and she rests her hand on the small of his back when he flips the steaks so they don’t overcook. They kiss for five minutes when he answers the door to her and for another five before she leaves, her hand cupping his cheek and her grin staying with him through his next flight to Oklahoma. 

 

They go to the CMA after-party, and to Adam’s Halloween party, and she holds his hand and he rests his hand on her hips as they listen to Maroon 5 perform. A bit tipsy, they make out in the back of the car set to take him home, her lipgloss leaving a pink sparkly stain over his mouth that he is later reluctant to wash off.

 

The next  evening after the CMAs, they had planned to watch a movie in her house. But then she had kissed him on the couch leaning over the popcorn and had ever so gently sucked on his tongue, and without thinking about it he had lifted her hips to straddle him, sticking his tongue far into her mouth and spanning his hands across her back. She had broken away to murmur, “ Fucking finally,” before shoving her tongue in his mouth and slowly grinding in his lap. He groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair.

 

They had kissed for what felt like hours, Gwen leaving sucking kisses along the side of his neck and him making embarrassingly loud groaning noises and he leaned his neck back to allow for more of her touch. When he finally got to her neck, he bit down gently before pulling away regretfully.

 

“ Maybe…” he cleared his throat, his voice hoarse, “ Maybe we should stop.” In response, she pulled his mouth to hers again, kissing him wetly. 

 

“ Please no,” she murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He growled, low in his throat before pulling away again. 

 

“ Just gimme a minute, “ he breathed out shakily, hands tightening over her back and forehead pressed to hers. She panted along with him, grinning.

 

“ Can’t take the heat big country?” She teased, scraping her fingernails over his scalp. His mouth fell open.

 

“ Not helping Gwen,” he panted. She huffed out a laugh. Her smile gradually died down and she just looked at him. Having her stare so intently made him self-conscious and he was tempted oh so tempted to look away, but instead he met her gaze, hands still moving methodically up and down on her back.

 

“He,” she began softly,  swallowing, “ hated to kiss. He always said all that kissing was just an unnecessary step on the way to sex, so why did we even bother.”,  Blake’s eyes widened at her admission and he saw tears begin to form in her eyes.  He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking underneath her eyelids to wipe away residual wetness. Leaning up, he kissed her gently. He considered what he wanted to say, second guessed it, considered it again, and eventually just blurted it out.

 

“ I could kiss you forever beautiful,” he murmured. Her eyes widened and she stared at him, a few more tears running down her face. Laughing a little, she arched her back so she could tuck her head underneath his chin, sniffling a little.

 

“ It doesn’t help when you say things like that, “ she teased gently. He laughed a little and stroked her hair. 

 

It took a few minutes before she had her composure, and another minute before she was sucking more kisses into his neck, enjoying his surprised intakes of breaths and his muffled groans. Within thirty seconds, they were kissing again, loud smacking kisses interspersed with groans and whimpers.

 

When he finally lets her go, almost an hour later, both of their lips are swollen and there is a large purple bruise on his neck he’s going to have to cover with makeup before the next “Voice.” He goes out onto his balcony with a tumbler of brandy that he ends up tossing in the sink, and traces his lips slowly with one finger. He goes into his bedroom and sleeps like the dead for 10 hours for the first time in months. Right before he falls asleep, so near rest that he will blame in on the hour the next morning, he sends her a text.

 

 **I want to write a million songs and play them all to you.** Ten seconds later, she sends him one back.

 

_Lets sing a duet instead._


	3. Stage Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super sexy times ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sex. If this is not your deal, then just skip the chapter and you won't miss any plot!
> 
> Also, I have been posting every day, but I am going to the theatre tomorrow right after work so tonight you guys get two chapters and then another one on Sunday. I should be finished posting the whole thing by Tuesday at the latest. :). Thanks again for all of your kind comments! I'm having way too much fun!

Its when she realizes he gives and gives, but doesn’t know how to take. She’s determined to teach him.

 

Their nights of long make outs had stretched for a week past that first night. Gwen’s senses were filled with the sound of his muffled moans (she’s convinced he muffles them because he doesn’t think they’re manly, she’s determined to disabuse him of that notion), the sight of his face (flushed and happy, looking less and less tired with each passing day), the feeling of his hands skirting up and down her body (he was constantly touching her now knowing that it was allowed). 

 

One night his hips had gotten little too close to hers and she felt his cock, rock hard and burning hot even beneath the thick denim of his jeans. He let out another large muffled groan and moved her hips back, muttering, “ Sorry.”

 

She breaks his kiss and half grins at him, entwining her hands with his on her hips before bringing their arms up above his head. She lightly encircled his wrist with her fingertips. Her other hand traced down his body before deliberately rubbing at the hard bulge she had felt when his hips had touched hers.

 

“ Oh _Fuck,”_ He whispered, hips unconsciously twitching up to meet her hands. His eyelashes fluttered before his eyes, a bright aroused azure blue, met hers with a questioning look. After a moment, he seemed to understand what she was telling him, because he nodded once before pushing his hands out of her grip and lowering her to lay below him on the couch. He grinned down at her and she grinned back, his good mood infectious. 

 

He kissed her then, no less passionate than their other kisses but with more purpose. Somehow he seemed more sure of himself, less frantic with the movements of his tongue and the slow slide of his teeth. He gently kissed along her jawline, wetly mouthing her ear before drawling softly, “ I wanna eat you out ’til you scream.” He followed his words with a slow grind into her.

 

She gasped, hips twitching. “ Uh-huh,” She mumbled, scraping her fingers along his scalp. 

 

He took her clothes off reverently. With her breasts he spent at least twenty minutes laving each nipple with his mouth before gently biting along their edges. He kissed along her stomach and scraped his teeth ever so slightly against her hipbone. She wondered how he discovered her turn-ons so quickly.

 

She was practically dripping, and she could see his eyes ever so slightly widen when he got his face down to her underwear, taking in the damp black material.  He licked his lips before moving to remove her underwear, following it down with his mouth and back up again. Before he could make it all the way, she hauled him up by the shoulders, unbuttoning his blue button down with frantic quickness, giving him quick tongue kisses with every button she unbuttoned.

 

He stopped her before she could remove it completely, nosing his way quickly back down to her center and taking a deep breath in. His shirt hung open but was otherwise on his body, his jeans tight around his cock but firmly buttoned and zipped. Their contrasts made her moan: him almost fully clothed and her totally naked, his lightly furred chest rubbing against her smooth legs, his hands big enough to encircle her hips and her legs around his ears. 

 

In the next half hour, he proceeded to bring her to three mind-blowing orgasms one right after the other, his tongue, lips, and the barest hint of teeth unyielding despite the fact that she knew his jaw was probably sore and his tongue was tired. For her mind, she’d lost track of the moans spilling out of her body, lost track of the ‘must look sexy during this’ mantra that had wound its way through her mind with every partner since she’d started having sex at age 20. Her eye makeup was probably around her nose and her body was dripping with sweat, but she didn't care (and she suspected he didn't either by the way he lapped at her with a groan with every orgasm that roared its way through her body).

 

 At one point her hips had arched so high that only her shoulders were on the couch and she knew that she must be squeezing Blake’s face into her, but he only hummed breathlessly around her clit, fingers pumping in and out of her entrance.

 

Sinking back down after the third orgasm, she shook, exhalations still coming out in breathy pants. He looked up at her and grinned a little, his face wet with her juices and his lips red. He softly nuzzled the inside of her thigh before standing up, his erection extraordinarily prominent along his jeans. He licked his lips before clearing his throat.

 

“ Can I kiss you?” He drawled lowly, his eyes looking her up and down. Her eyebrows rose. Why on earth was he _asking_ her?!

 

“ C’mere,” she muttered, standing up and on her tiptoes so she could get to his lips. Just as the tips of his lips began to touch hers, she turned him around, backed him up, and pushed him onto the couch, straddling him with her knees on either side of his hips. He fell back with an ‘oof’ of surprise before she grinned, sucking wet licking kisses along his cheekbones to lap up her juices and around the edge of his lips before meeting his mouth wetly. He was shaking ever so slightly, she could tell, and he gripped the sides of her face with two large hands before meeting her kiss with all the eagerness of a horny high school student. 

 

She broke away and let her eyes trace down and up his body. He flushed a little, licking his lips again. Her hands came to push off his shirt completely. He slightly stiffened up in the bright artificial light of her living room. She kneeled over him on the couch, kissing his neck and his shoulder blades. It wasn’t until she was sliding him to lie down along the length of her couch, thankful that she had invested in one that ended up being long enough to fit his frame, that he spoke. 

 

“Can we turn the lights off?” He muttered, so softly she wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear it. She kissed him then, a brief peck of lips over lips. 

 

“Let me see you when I suck you,” she whispered into his mouth. He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on her back. 

 

“Gwen… I…” he began, clearing his throat as a flush spread to his cheeks and chest. Looking at him, she decided what best to say to deal with what was obviously a huge self esteem problem that went deeper than she realized. 

 

Leaning over him, she nuzzled her nose against his nose. 

 

“ Let me see how handsome you are when you come, please, let me see my beautiful cowboy. “ She said through kisses on his cheeks. When he offered no further resistance she traced her lips down his chest, discovering that a sucking kiss on his nipple made him arch and swear, but a hand traced down his ribs made him inhale through a surprisingly high pitched giggle.

 

 

When she took him into her mouth with his pants on the ground, she felt more than heard him groan loudly before trying to muffle the sound. When he was close to coming, she felt him warn her but instead suckled at the head of his cock, letting his fingers tighten in her hair. When he came down her throat, she licked down his cock to catch any last drops, waiting until the final slurp to meet his wide eyed and brilliantly blue gaze. When he kissed her with tongue like he didn't think he was allowed, she pet his hair softly. When his eyes were suspiciously wet as he guided her to lay against his chest, she let it be.

 

The next morning, he woke her up with a broken sounding “ please, let me fuck you, please please please,” and they’d had frantic, too loud, over too quickly sex. It had ended with bright red bites on her neck and chest (that he’d apologized for) and purpled bruises dotting the lines of his collarbones (that she started to apologize for until she saw him grin slightly to himself in the bathroom as he left the top two buttons on his shirt open so they’d be visible). They’d taken a nap, he’d gotten up and made her eggs in avocados and kissed her with coffee lips, and she became determined to prove to him that he was worth more than he thought he was.

 

After he'd left, her phone had buzzed, and she grinned at the now familiar ritual.

 

 _Really, sorry about your neck._ She’d rolled her eyes at her phone.

 

 **Didn’t you think my almost scream when you did it as you were coming in me clued you in that I liked it?** She had to wait a minute for a response this time, and she could almost picture his wide eyed stare at his phone.

 

 _Don’t let me take more than you’re willing to give._ She’d felt herself tear up and made a vow to make him feel worth it sooner rather than later. She sent back a simple phrase.

 

**When it comes to me, you can have everything.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a few comments about some minor typos so i've been trying to watch out for them, thanks for the constructive criticism!


	4. Stage Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who commented. I can't tell you how flattering it is to know that people enjoy my writing!

It’s when he realizes she’s been telling him he doesn’t have to be the strong one, and he finally believes her.

 

It had been a hellish week. The five days between “Voice” tapings had been filled with flight after flight, solo interview after solo interview, visits with his mother and a trip to his brother’s grave on the anniversary of his death (Gwen had asked if she wanted him to come with her but he’d explained that not even his sister’s husband was allowed, that this was between immediate close family only, and she’ d understood in a way that Miranda with her slightly judging gaze never had. On the night she’d texted him a picture of rumpled sheets and the curve of her breast, telling him that the left side of her California king was lonely without him in it with her. He’d smiled through his tears as he’d laid up against the headboard of his childhood bed, and he’d touched the picture with reverent thumbs almost as if he was touching her skin). 

 

It had astounded him how quickly he got used to sleeping next to warm cinnamon-scented Gwen, and how hard it was to sleep without her. She was almost always cold, even after sex, and he missed spooning up to her as the sweat was still cooling on her body from their passion. He missed the smell of her freshly shampooed hair under his nose, the way she’d lick around his lips sometimes before kissing them, the way she’d stretch her whole body before she got up in the morning rather like a cat sunning itself. He missed her laughter every time he’d crack a joke, missed the red lipstick stains she’d sometimes leave on his neck.  He even felt himself missing her kids, who he’d met properly \ three weeks before as Mommy’s “boyfriend” and spent countless hours with since. He missed teaching Kingston and Zuma how to throw a football, missed helping Zuma practice the electric guitar Gwen had gotten him for his birthday. He missed Kingston’s fist bumps and Zuma’s soft smile up at him. He’d missed Apollo’s warm arms around his neck and his high-pitched giggle after Blake tickled him. He’d missed Gwen’s tearful smile when she’d first seen Apollo waddle on unsteady legs over to him with a joyful smile, him on his knees with arms outstretched on the concrete sidewalk outside her house so he could meet the baby’s eyes (she’d pressed kiss after kiss into his face  that night when the kids had gone to bed with her hands squeezing his tightly). 

 

He’d felt the effects of the lack of Gwen in his life. He knew his appetite that he’d lost after his divorce and regained (though healthier) with Gwen had disappeared after the second day; he’d slept maybe three hours a night in Tishomingo. The bags under his eyes had come back with a vengeance. 

 

The crowning achievement of the thorn in his side that had been his week was the fact that almost all flights had been canceled in Oklahoma the day he was supposed to fly back, and he ended up arriving in L.A. not with the day and a half he thought he’d have but with only enough time to go to a rehearsal before the next Voice taping. He’d had enough time only to briefly hug Gwen before someone was calling him away, his fingers brushing hers. 

 

During the first taping break, he’d stood up almost as soon as “cut” was called, catching her eyes and motioning his head towards outside in the balmy air. He’d looked around the back of the stage, seeing no one, and as soon as she’d come out and gotten near him he’d hooked one hand around her waist and the other to cradle the back of her head, shoving her against the nearest wall and crashing his lips onto hers. She’d ‘oof’ed before meeting his kiss as fiercely as he was giving it. It was only when Adam had walked by and sneezed obnoxiously and falsely loudly that they’d broken apart enough for them to glare at Adam. 

Adam had held up his hands in an innocent gesture, motioning with the thumb to the stage.

 

“ Don’t shoot the messenger. We’ve got two minutes until showtime and I figured makeup would want enough time to touch you up after you had your faces in each other’s mouths.” He’d left then, going back towards the stage, and Blake gave her one more soft kiss before stepping back. She’d straightened his lapels, grinning up at him.

 

“ You look tired,” she’d said softly, cupping his cheek. He’d leaned into it.

 

“Bad week, “ He’d said softly before breaking away from her hold and taking her hand to pull her back to the stage, 

 

By the time the taping had ended he had no idea how he was still standing. He’d gotten makeup off and met her in her trailer to slump on her chair, eyes closing and reopening at periodic intervals while he waited for her to take her makeup off. She’d looked at him the whole time, her eyes concerned but her face a soft smile. As soon as she was able, she’d taken his hand and led him to her car, taking him to her house and upstairs to her bedroom. He’d grinned through his tiredness and kissed her with tongue, pushing her back on the bed and putting his hands on her breasts and squeezing.

 

“ Are _oh!”_ She’d gasped, hands in his hair, “ are you sure you’re not too tired?” He’d grinned at her playfully.

 

“ I think this dinosaur has it in him,” he’d teased. She’d grinned and he’d kissed her cheeks, mouthing her earlobe before making his way down to her neck with soft nips.Almost unconsciously, he dropped down so his body was completely draped over hers (the first time Gwen had urged him to do this he’d argued with her convinced that his weight would crush her but she’d rolled her eyes playfully, telling him teasingly she’d bench pressed more than him before breakfast that morning. He’d figured that was her way of telling him she liked it). 

 

He tucked his nose into her neck, taking a deep breath in and wrapping his arms around her waist and tangling their legs. He’d smelled cinnamon and home, felt her fingers in his hair, felt his eyes slam shut like they were on a trap door. Five seconds later, he was fast asleep.

 

If he’d been awake, he would have heard her hands stop in his hair for a moment before she softly said, “Blake?” and shaken him a little. He would have seen her shake her head slightly before giggling under her breath. He would have seen her grab the covers with her toes to her hands before covering them up. He would have seen her turn off the lights with a flick of one hand, tangling one hand back into his hair and resting the other on his heart. He would have seen her nuzzle her nose into the top of his head, take a deep breath in, and close her eyes.

 

After almost twelve hours of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep with her by his side, he wakes absolutely starving and to find a note pinned to the pillow next to him, her block  letters neat and tidy against the crisp white of the page.

 

**_Had to go to an interview. I tried to kiss your face awake but you slept like the dead. Please send confirmation of life when you wake up. If not alive I may have to find someone else to give me the best orgasms of my life._** **_xxxxx Gwen_**

 

He grinned and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket, jeans which are laid neatly over the chair on the other side of the nightstand.

 

 _i’m alive._ _come home and i’ll show you how alive i am. could have shown you this morning if you’d really tried to wake me up :P. i’m a light sleeper._

 

 **He wakes! Cant, have to go talk about my new song for the five millionth time. Blake, you are the exactly opposite of a light sleeper. I probably could have sucked you off and you wouldn’t have woken up this morning.** He bites his lip, his grin fading a little.

 

 _I’m usually a light sleeper._ He sends it, then waits for a second while he considers. Shaking his head a little, he types again. _Maybe it’s who i’m sleeping with._

 

 **You mean I bore you so much you can’t help but pass out in my presence?** He stares at the screen and furrows his brow, typing again.

 

_You know that’s not what I meant, Gwen._

 

The text comes ten seconds later. **Why do you insist on having these conversations through text message when I'm not there to stick my hands in your hair and my tongue in your mouth?** He flushes, though if anyone asks him later he’ll deny it.

 

 _Because i’m too much of a coward to say it to your face. and because I passed out like a five year old last night._ He ponders, tapping his fingers against the bed. _If I gave you keys to my house would you run?_ The text comes almost a minute later, when he’s working himself up to righteous panic and moping.

 

 **You make snuffling noises in your sleep, and it helps me rest without dreaming about him.** His mouth falls open a little, and he touches his fingers to his lips, wishing she was there. His phone pings again.

 

 **A set of keys to my house is attached to your key ring hanging next to mine in the hallway. Your second favorite hat is in the hall closet, and the brand of coffee you like is above the espresso machine. The only place i’m running is towards you.** Through the ringing in his ears, he types back one last sentence before he can think about it.

 

 _I love you._ She sends one back a millisecond later; it’s obvious she didn't hesitate.

 

**I love you too.**


	5. Stage Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intention had been to post this Monday or Tuesday. But my muse got ahold of me and I ended up writing the last chapter tonight. I hope you all enjoy!

**_It’s when he realizes she might be his forever. It’s when she realizes she might love him like she’s never loved anyone else._ **

 

As much as he tried to pretend he wasn’t, Blake was nervous. He stood in front of the mirror in his dressing room, tugging his black vest down a little over his white shirt. The black jeans seemed criminally tight then (even know intellectually he knew that they weren’t half as tight as the crap kids were wearing these days). He stuffed his hands in his pockets (as much as they could go in his pockets in these goddamn jeans) and he finally appraised his shirt, the white material stretching more than he was comfortable over his shoulders. He followed himself up to his neck, where a fading purple bruise lay right on the edge of the collar of the opened three buttons down shirt, noticeable whenever he moved his neck to shake his head or gesture. His gunmetal Rolex lay on one hand, a gift from Gwen that he not-so-secretly loved. A matching gunmetal wallet chain hung from his belt loop to his pocket. Black cowboy boots fit his feet like gloves, the only article of clothing from his old wardrobe that he was wearing.

 

“ This is for Gwen, “ he muttered to himself, taking a few stuttered breaths in. She had no idea what he was doing, was stuck in rehearsals with her team until the very last minute. They’d both been particularly busy this week, not having as much time with each other as they’d hoped for. So, during one of the times when he was alone and in L.A, he’d done what he swore he’d never do in his entire life. He’d called Adam Levine for fashion advice. 

 

After hearing what he had in mind, Blake had to endure ten minutes of Adam’s laughter on the phone before continuing to speak. Blake was sure someone out there found Adam’s pig-like snorting endearing, but it rankled Blake’s nerves as he waited for his best friend to be able to speak again. Within ten seconds after sniffing in the laughing tears he had shed, Adam was asking Blake if Gwen was trying to force him to change his style. Blake had reassured him that no, she wasn’t, he just wanted to do something for her. He knew she loved fashion, he’d explained, and he wanted to spruce up his image a bit, nothing crazy mind you (visions of sweaters with more holes than material and leather pants had Blake repeating _a bit_ over and over on the phone to Adam). She’d done so much for him, he’d explained, from trying shooting with him once (that night she’d said that that was a great _once in a lifetime experience_ and he’d laughed, taking the hint) to taking the boys camping in Yellowstone with him (which she’d surprisingly enjoyed) that he wanted to try to be interested in the things she was interested in, too. 

 

Without further words Adam had started rambling about Armani and Valentino talking about appointments for personal shopping and the different cuts of pants faster than Blake could keep up.

 

“ Dude,” Blake had said, cutting him off in the middle of a rant about a silk-satin blend waistcoat he’d worn once, “ Can’t we just go to some mall and be done with it?” Adam had been silent for a minute.

 

“ Blake do you want to surprise Gwen or not?” Blake had grumbled for a minute before mumbling that yes he did. Thus, he found himself being dragged from private shop to shop, trying on shirt after shirt while Adam sat outside and critiqued the items given to him with all the intensity of a new song he was writing. They’d picked out at least ten different outfits and spent more money in that afternoon than Blake spent in two years on clothing, but this had been Blake’s favorite, and Adam had agreed. 

 

It was just that then, standing in the bright lighting of his trailer, appraising himself in the mirror, the confidence and sense of _rightness_ the outfit had given him inside Armani had disappeared, leaving him looking at what he thought to be a fat old man trying to be a rocker for his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend. For god’s sake, he’d even let her mark on him show, something neither one of them had ever done. 

 

“ Blake, two minutes to call,” One of the PAs rapped on his door and said before walking away. He took a deep breath in again, trying to suck in his gut, and shut his eyes. He could do this.

 

For once, he’s introduced to the audience after Gwen. By the time he gets to the stage, she’s already gone out and the hope he had of her seeing it just the two of them is lost. He feels a little nauseous, feels his name being called out by Carson, and steps out into the bright lights of the Voice stage. The audiences cheer (with some squeals from the women) are deafeningly audible, Carson’s wide eyed stare and Adam and Pharrell wearing matching shit-eating grins (the little brunette bastard had ratted him out and Blake was going to get revenge somehow, just not now). It was Gwen’s face, however, that almost made him stop. Her mouth, painted with bright red lipstick, had fallen open, and her eyes were wide as they looked him up and down. He’d gone to shake Carson’s hand and then hugged Gwen, noticing her intake of breath as she caught onto the fact that he was wearing her Rolex and her mark openly upon his neck.

 

“Doesn’t he look handsome ladies?” Carson teases, and the audience loses it, cheering (and he notices Gwen’s wide grin before she brushes their fingers as they go to their seats, mouthing _later_ with an intent stare). 

 

Throughout the show up until the first break, it’s amazing how much more comfortable he is than he expected to be. The outfit, which had felt over-exposing and tight when he was in his trailer, now felt familiar, the heat of his plaid shirts and leather jackets gone to allow him to feel cool and fresh. 

 

The minute the director called “and that’s a commercial break folks, five minutes!”, Gwen had been up and over to his chair, pulling him by the hand outside to their normal not-always-make-out spot (okay nine times out of ten it had involved tongue kisses and ass grabbing but no one else needed to know that though he’s pretty sure everyone does).  He fidgets a little as he feels her eyes rake up and down, up and down his body.

 

“ W” he clears his throat, “ What do you think?” She looks up at him without saying a word, and then she’s kissing him deeply, her feet coming off the ground and her heels clattering to the floor as she practically throws herself up to his arms. He for his part wraps his arms tightly around her waist, holding on. It’s not until she’s back on the ground, shoes forgotten to her right side, in her stockings, that she speaks.

 

“ Blake,” and her voice is a little sad and her eyes are concerned, “ You know that you don’t have to change for me, right? I loved you with your plaid shirts and baggy jeans.” He deflated a little.

 

“ You don’t like it?” He questioned, unable to keep the hint of vulnerability out of his voice. 

 

“ No! It’s not that, “ She pets at his cheeks with her fingertips. “ I just don't want you to think you have to change anything about yourself for me, “ She murmurs, touching his forehead to hers.  He takes a deep breath.

 

“ Gwen I wanted to. I know you love fashion and you’ve done so much for me. You always look so stunning and I wanted to try to be worth it for you. We’re a partnership now, and I wanted to like the things you like.” She stares up at him with slightly watery eyes. 

 

“ I love you, and you’re always worth it. “  She whispers to him. He feels his shoulders relax and tension he didn't even know he had drain out of him.

 

“ I love you too,” He whispers back. It’s the first time they’ve said it aloud without the benefit of a phone between them, and they gaze at each other with undoubtedly sickeningly sweet eyes before she laughs a little and runs her hands up his chest.

 

“ You, “ she sucks at the bruised mark on his neck, lightly scraping her nails over the edge of his hairline, “ look.” she kisses beneath his ear, “ _hot.”_ She finishes with a light grind into him. He groans. It’s not twenty seconds later when a P.A. comes out to find them with her lipstick on his neck and his hands on her ass, telling them that they have ten seconds to get inside. She licks her thumb and wipes away the lipstick before straightening his vest.

 

After the show she gives an interview to ET outside and mentions her “drop dead handsome boyfriend.” He grins from ten feet away and drops in to the fourth conversation he’s had with a reporter about how lucky he is to have someone as “gorgeous as Gwen in his life.” He feels more confident than he’s felt in twenty years, and the outfit feels not so much like a change for his girlfriend but instead like a second skin.

 

 

**_It’s when she realizes she probably loves him like she’s never loved anyone else. It’s when he realizes he’s pretty sure she’s his forever._ **

 

It’s an ordinary Thursday in Oklahoma when she finds it. Blake was outside with her boys, by the sounds of yelling and giggling having way too much fun. She’d gone to get Kingston one of Blake’s sweatshirts to use as a coat, having totally underestimated how cold it is in January in Tishomingo. Blake had been the one to both notice Kingston’s discomfort and to suggest one of his sweatshirts. If she’s being completely honest, that’s one of her favorite things about him, how much of a natural father figure he’s already becoming to the boys. He’d confessed to her one night as they lay entwined in his soaking tub that that was the main reason he and Miranda had gotten divorced; she’d wanted nothing to do with kids whereas that’s all he could think about sometimes. She can see how easily being with them comes to him, and although she still respects Gavin’s place in her kids’ lives she can’t help but feel a little bit smug when Apollo scrambles out of Gavin’s arms to get to Blake, throwing his chubby toddler arms around him and giggling.

 

She opens the wardrobe, furrowing her brow as she looks in one of the drawers, then the other. Finally, after opening the third drawer down, she finds a row of neatly folded sweatshirts, all of which are going to completely dwarf Kingston’s small frame. Biting her lip, she digs to the bottom of the drawer, hoping that the ones at the bottom are the things that don’t fit him and will hopefully be smaller. Her hand comes across something that is decidedly not cloth and hard, and she pulls it out. It’s a dark red box with the words “ Cartier” emblazoned on it in embossed silver font. She gapes, opening it before she can stop herself.

 

Without even thinking about it she knows it’s for her, and she knows it’s an engagement ring. The ring is stunning, a perfect mixture of his traditional style and her rocker chic vibe, swirls of diamond circling around a stunningly sized jewel in the center. It’s tasteful yet proclaims to the entire world that she's his. 

 

It shouldn’t surprise her. She knows Blake is the marrying kind, knows that he wanted nothing to do with a simple hook-up when they got together, and neither did she. They’re both the long-term commitment types, the types that don’t sleep around unless they’re in love or close to. For her own part, she’d loved being married until things got messed up (in hindsight they had always been messed up between her and Gavin but she wouldn’t stop to think about that, not now). He’s met her kids and she’s met his family, the each have copies of each other’s keys and Blake’s listed as the third emergency contact after her and Gavin on her kids’ school forms (she’d practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor when she’d asked if he was alright with being put on there, and after hugging her for about five minutes he’d told her with suspiciously red rimmed eyes that he would be honored). He’s refined his fashion sense a little to more closely mesh with hers, has started to wear his clothes a little tighter and go for things a little more rock-inspired (of course, he’s still him, but she thinks it charming when he asks for her opinion on a pair of pants or a blazer). His vests have come back with shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, along with a gunmetal Rolex she’d gotten him for his birthday. 

 

Taking a deep breath suddenly, and jolting her out of her stupor, she closes the box and puts it exactly where she found it, straightening his sweatshirts over it again and grabbing a sweatshirt from the top this time. Her stomach is churning and her face has broken out into a cold sweat, but she can’t stop smiling. She goes into the bathroom for a moment to lean against the counter and take a few deep breaths with her hands braced against the vanity. Even through her panic about how she’s going to okay it with the kids, even through the rolling of her stomach and the sweatshirt clutched haphazardly in her hands, she knows what she’s going to say if ( _when,_ her mind supplies) he asks her. 

 

 

**_It’s when she realizes that she absolutely loves him like she’s never loved anyone else. It’s when he realizes she’s absolutely his forever._ **

 

She lives in uncertainty for another week, unsure when and how he was going to ask her. When she had come back outside that day, Blake had looked at her with a concerned expression for a second before asking her if everything was ok. She’d nodded, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingers (and if she pictured his beautiful ring on her hand and a coordinating one one on his then no one had to know that). His look had gone away at her convincing smile, and he’d gone back to practically being tackled by Apollo and Kingston, Zuma sat underneath a tree writing but giving them smiles every so often. 

 

After two weeks go by with nothing, she starts to put it out of her mind. After almost a month, she starts to think that she imagined finding the ring in his drawer. At the same time, he starts being more publicly affectionate with her, kissing her lips briefly in her SUV in broad daylight and strolling down the streets of Tishomingo with her hand firmly in his. For her part, she relishes the affection, running her hand down his back every so often and meeting him at the airport with a giant hug and kiss when he has to travel. She knows the tabloids are still gossiping about them, knows that there are still people who hate her and Blake for what they’ve done to Miranda and Gavin (never mind that both had treated Blake and Gwen like shit and left scars on their souls) but the interest in them seems to have died down from the frantic frenzy it was at the beginning of their relationship.

 

It was a week before Valentine’s Day when he quietly asks her whether he might be able to take Kingston and Zuma out for the afternoon the next day after they’d gotten back from Gavin’s just by himself. She lifts her head from her position on his chest and rests her chin there instead.

 

“ So long as they’re okay with it, I am. What do you have planned?” He’d fidgeted then a little, reminiscent of when he was so self-conscious and they first started dating. Both children loved Blake, Zuma with the quiet intensity of an artist in the making and Kingston with wild tackles and breathless abandon. Blake avoids the question, smiling at her okay and kissing her breathless. He flips her over onto her stomach, sticks his tongue in her mouth with a hand on her throat and nips at her lips before eating her out from behind, and she had forgotten entirely what he was asking.

 

The next day (after Zuma and Kingston agree readily but with slightly puzzled looks on their faces), Blake trundles them off in Gwen’s range rover, his eyes a little wide at the thought of driving through L.A. with two of the most precious possessions in the world with him. She finds out later that they go to Disneyland for the afternoon, and Blake buys them burgers and fries and goes on the spinning rides for Zuma and the roller coasters for Kingston. They come home with sunscreen noses and bright grins, and Kingston gleefully describes how Blake had been cut off by another driver angry with him for only going 15 miles over the speed limit in the right lane and how Blake had shouted, “ SON OF A BEET!” at the driver. Blake’s face had turned scarlet red and he’d scooped Kingston up, stage whispering,

 

“ I didn’t think we were gonna tell your momma about that?” He grinned at Gwen, whose eyes were almost closed in laughter. “ Wanna know what the punishment is??” Kingston shook his head, his curly hair fanning out over Blake’s shoulder as he hung upside down. “ Tickles!!!” Kingston had laughed hard when Blake had tickled his fingers over his stomach, practically tackling Blake to the ground while Gwen couldn’t stop smiling.

 

After Kingston had calmed down, Zuma had come up to him. He got down to Zuma’s level, grinning softly at him. Zuma had hugged him then, Blake’s grin turning bashful. 

“ Today was a lot of fun.” Zuma said simply, before breaking away and going off to do something with his guitar. Blake’s eyes had followed him tenderly, and Gwen had melted at how he adapted to the different personalities of her kids so quickly. Later when Blake is in the shower both Zuma and Kingston come up to Gwen and inform her in their own ways how much they like Blake, Kingston telling her how much he likes that Blake laughs a lot and plays sports with him and Zuma telling her how Blake helps him with his music and isn’t angry all the time like Daddy is.

 

That night, Gwen thanks him by blowing him as he sits on the bathroom counter, the baby monitor close by in case of emergency but otherwise the only sounds being his ragged breaths and the sound of her mouth on his cock. She sucks marks into the inside of his thighs and one more above his heart, and he comes like his very soul is being wrenched out of him into her mouth. As they lay in bed, he asks her to take Apollo to the playground with him the next day, and she agrees without a second thought.

 

It’s not until the morning of Valentines Day, when the boys are with Gavin, when he wakes her at ten with his mouth on her clit and his hands entwined with hers, that she realizes that he’s laying the groundwork to ask her to marry him. It’s almost enough to make her arch away from his touch in surprise, but before she can analyze it she’s coming hard almost without realizing it, and he’s sucking at her loudly. She forgets again about her thoughts, so focused on the feel touch and taste of him as he swirls his tongue around her teeth.

 

He makes her cinnamon toast and gingerbread tea (things she’s confessed to him that she loves as comfort foods) and they watch ‘80s movies in bed after taking a long shower together in which she found herself lifted up against the wall as he fucked into her. They eat chocolate chip cookies (for her) and salt and vinegar potato chips (for him) and kiss each other through the crumbs, Blake hilariously imitating some of the songs and Gwen almost in tears from her laughter before she joins in on the harmonies.

 

After lunch, she goes out shopping with her friend Stacy at Blake’s prompting (she tells him to just stay in her house because its useless for him to go home when he’s just going to come back to take her to dinner at 8) and she buys ruby red La Perla lingerie, picturing his blue eyes brightening as he sees her. Stacy teases her and Gwen just smiles.

 

Around five, she gets home to find Blake’s truck in her driveway and she smiles. Anticipating some slow sweet sex before they leave for dinner, she opens her garage door and gasps. Her whole house has been transformed. The rooms are glowing, lit by what must be a thousand candles. There are candles going up the stairs, candles on every ledge, candles on the balcony where they had their first date. Soft acoustic tones filter to her ears, and she follows a trail of red rose petals out to the doorway of her balcony, where at least six dozen roses are set on every available surface complete with two flutes of champagne. It’s so over-the-top, so stereotypically romantic, that she can’t help but put her hand over her mouth. Her phone buzzes in her pocket then, and she opens it to find a text from him.

 

 _Come out to the balcony._ She texted back.

 

 **Who says i’m home?** It pings almost immediately.

 

_I can feel you are. Please, Gwen._

 

 **I’m in the doorway you beautiful, beautiful man.** She hears his phone buzz before he comes around the corner to the doorway to see her there. A bright but nervous smile lights up his face, and he fidgets, reminding her a little of their first date. He leads her out to the lounge chair, sitting her down on it before wringing his hands slightly. He paces for a minute before taking out his phone of all things and starting to type. She raises her eyebrows at him and says, “ Blake” in a way that makes him look at her and shake himself a little, unceremoniously shoving his phone in his pocket to her huffed laugh.

 

 

 

“ When Miranda and I got divorced,” he begins, “ I didn’t think I deserved happiness. I figured her cheating on me was God’s way of gettin’ back at me for cheating with her on my first wife. Miranda hated to touch unless there was sex, hated holding hands, hated kissing me on the lips with tongue, hated leaving anything on my body. My first wife had been the same, “ His voice breaks then and she aches to go to him but something keeps her put (maybe its his beseeching gaze as he swipes a fingertip under his eyes) “ And I figured I didn’t deserve any different. I didn’t think it could be different, didn’t think I could end a night without my lips draining the vodka out of a bottle and wondering where my life had ended up.” He starts to pace then, his gaze on the ground. “ But then, you.” The word you is infused with so much love Gwen is reeling. “ You taught me that I love to bite your neck, and that it goes perfect with you likin’ sex a lil’ rough,” His drawl is getting thicker and she smiles through her tears. “ You taught me I like my kisses wet and messy, and that I love it when you suck kisses down my neck and when ya leave purple bruises on my throat. You taught me fingers in my hair tugging makes me come. You taught me can’t wait shower sex and what it feels like you have your lips on my cock in the back of a limo. You taught me how to eat you out at the dining room table, how to fuck you on your bed with all the lights on ‘cause we don’t care who sees us.” She’s staring up at him now, her mouth open.  “ and more important than the sex, you taught me that I never, ever, met my match until you. I’ve laughed more with you in the past four months than I have in my entire life. Even though you went through the worst thing anyone could put you through, you still make me laugh. Even though you convince me i’m worth it every day of my life, you still don’t feel like you’re worth the dirt Gavin treated you like.” A few tears run down her face.

 

“ Gwen, you’re magic. You deserve a Cinderella story and roses on your pillow and kisses on your nose. Your kids deserve a father who teaches them things and who’s there for them and who’s willing to lasso the stars out of the sky for them. You deserve breakfast in bed and love notes on your pillow. You deserve to be texted because I just couldn’t wait another hour to see you. If you’ll let me, i’d like to spend the rest of my life being your prince and the rest of their days being your boys’ cowboy.” He gets down on one knee then, and pulls out the ring that she had found those weeks ago, opening the box and looking up at her with a fearful yet hopeful gaze. Her mouth is still open because she’d expected it and yet was floored at the same time. She starts to speak, but his eyes widen and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. She’s shocked and starts to sputter, thinking it went off and he was answering it in the middle of the proposal for fuck’s sake, when he pulls up the video app and shows it to her. The first video opens with Kingston sitting outside of Disney land, obviously in the evening before they came home last week. He’s out of breath with exhaustion with a beaming smile on his face.

 

“ Hi Momma,” he begins the video, “ Blake took us to all this really fun stuff, and then he sat down with me and asked if it would be ‘kay if he married you. I told him he should marry you ‘cause he gives the best hugs and tickles me and you laugh ‘lots when you’re with him.” Tears are streaming down her face at a rapid pace now as her hand comes up to cover her mouth. “ Kay, now, Zuma gonna get on and ‘splain to you why you should marry him, then we’re gonna go home because we’ve been here for hours and i’m tired. Love you Mommy!” The message is so rambling, so incredibly like her oldest son, and so obviously done with no coaching from Blake that her heart stutters. Blake lets out a breath and switches to a video of Zuma now.

 

The video is markedly different. Zuma, her ever serious, ever sensitive, uncannily perceptive little boy, looks straight at the camera. “ Hi Mommy. Kingston made a video about why you should marry Blake, and then Blake asked me whether it would be okay if you Married Blake, and I said yeah. You smile more with him than with Dad, a real one, not the fake one you use for me, ‘Pollo, and King that goes away when you think we aren’t looking. Blake loves you lots too, I can tell. He talked about you all afternoon and his eyes got kinda soft. Between you and I,” he whispers, obviously forgetting that Blake is filming, “ I think you help Blake like himself more.” She hears Blake’s rapid intake of breath over the video before he’s quiet again. “ So, anyways Mommy, you should marry him and its ok with me. I love you and see you soon.” Blake shuts off the phone then, setting it to the floor by his side. He looks up at her, tears in his eyes. 

 

Within a millisecond, she has tackled him to the floor, kissing his face rapidly while murmuring, “ yes, yes, yes, yes,” He laughs a watery chuckle then before sitting up with his legs outstretched while she straddles his lap. He slips the ring on her finger, and it’s a perfect fit. He cups her face in his hands, his eyes as bright as the ocean in summer.

 

“ I tried to film Apollo but he kept picking his nose,” He drawled, and she’d laughed then, sticking her fingers in his hair and her tongue in his mouth. Throughout the night, after they’ve blown out all the candles (they couldn't break out of each others arms and so had done it together in between kisses), he cant stop kissing her fingers and staring at his ring on her finger.

 

Six months later, it comes out. _The Five Stages of Falling In Love_ becomes #1 on iTunes in a matter of minutes. It’s not rock or ska or country, it’s him and his acoustic guitar and her voice and his soul. The cover art isn’t trendy or sophisticated, but is simply a black and white picture of their hands intertwined, the diamond in her ring glittering like a new day in the sunlight. The official announcement they make (though everyone has seen the ring on her hand by now because she refused to take it off) comes the day after the song is released in the form of their Twitters, where they each post one word at the same time.

 

_His._

 

**Hers.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap, folks. Thanks again for all of your kind comments, it means so much to me. I've always wanted to write fan fiction but never had the guts (and never thought my writing was good enough to be quite honest), so to hear all of your words praising my story is really just unbelievable. To anyone out there who's scared to write, don't be! I had pictures of both Blake's outfit at the beginning and the ring, but Ao3 won't let me post them? I'm not sure why, but hopefully my words create a good enough mental picture for you!

**Author's Note:**

> Things to Know About Me.  
> (1) I'm on an eternal mission to suck less as a writer and to be more awesome in general. In furtherance of that mission, constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> (2) I have become that celebrity news follower I used to scoff at. This city girl has also started to listen to country music. I blame Blake, and the general adorableness of Shefani.  
> (3) I am brand new to Ao3 as an author, so please forgive any formatting/posting goofs.  
> (4) I do not know these people, and mean no disrespect to anyone I might portray in a negative/not so favorable light. I know that people are more complicated than what we get from magazines and words we type on the page.


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